


(Maybe I'm already) Good Enough

by orphan_account



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: ADHD, Autism, Dysfunctional Family, Foster Care, Gen, Jeonghan was implied to have been put into the foster system, because of his mother, but no one could give it to him, jeonghan deserves the world, so the earth keeps spinning on it's axis and he's going with it, this kind of hurt to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-16 01:14:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13043454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Jeonghan feels a lot, too much, too often. He feels the sun and the stars, he feels the flowers and the grass, he feels the pain and the tears. But mostly, he feels the bittersweet hatred that somehow turned into love, and that's what scares him the most, what makes him feel the worst.And that's never been okay.





	(Maybe I'm already) Good Enough

If Jeonghan thinks back to when he was really, really little, he can trick himself into believing that he can remember his biological father. He can't really, because he was so young and his dad left when he was too small to comprehend anything and not developed enough to differentiate people, but he likes to pretend that he does, because it gives him something to use to try and piece his life together with. 

Most of his early childhood is blurred together, a jumbled mess of screaming and crying and empty glass bottles, like a puzzle missing the center pieces, so that the picture can't come together, and the blank space where it's supposed to be is laughing right in his face. He does know that he was taken away for a while, taken away from his mother to live in a big house far away from her with a lot of other children, who pushed him around and called him a weirdo for growing his hair and playing with the girls. It was this house that he learnt to walk, and talk, and be himself in, so he supposes that he probably owes a lot to the people there for teaching him to be not let himself be fragile. 

He's not stupid though. 

Although his parents have never explicitly told him why he was handed off to other people, and never gone into detail about who they were, Jeonghan knows that it's because no one wanted him. There were so many foster families that he could have lived with, so many children and parents that he could have called his own, but no one chose him, no one thought that he was the right person to accept into their family. That makes him sad, most days. He tries not to dwell on it, though, tries to keep his thoughts away from the ache that settles in his chest when he realizes that if everyone had cared more, he would have grown up very differently. Or maybe the same. Sometimes people never change. 

That's something he's accepted, something he's known for a long time. It took his mother years to get him back, to get better, and it took him a long time to trust Naomi, his mother's new partner. He knows that his mother changed, but he also knows that she could have easily just let him be swept away by someone else's dreams. 

Dreams? That's not right, maybe the correct word is nightmares. Or maybe it's just what he deserved. Maybe everything in this world is some kind of grand plan, some kind of carefully constructed scheme, and he's being punished by someone, somewhere. Maybe there is a person in this world, cursing a murderer who has long since passed, and not only is he the reincarnation, but he is the poor, lonely creature that has to be punished in their place. Maybe somewhere, there is someone who believes. 

He doesn't believe - not while the grass is green and the sky is blue - he doesn't see the rays of sunlight peeking through the clouds. He chooses not to. It's better that way. 

Jeonghan feels a lot, too much, too often. He feels the sun and the stars, he feels the flowers and the grass, he feels the pain and the tears. But mostly, he feels the bittersweet hatred that somehow turned into love, and that's what scares him the most, what makes him feel the worst. How did his mother, someone who hated him so deeply and so severely, wake up one day knowing how to love him? That of course begs the question - Is love something taught to you, a behavior picked up by observing society? Did his mother learn to be the person he needed from the start, just a little too late? Or did she know all along? Did she resist the urge to be a mother to instead be a person? 

"Do you really love me? Or do you love the fact that I'm all that's left of the old you?" Jeonghan asks, and when he sees his mother go pale, and her eyes water, he knows that he's done damage enough. To her, he thinks, he's the result of a broken heart and empty bottles, and he's going to have to come to terms with that. He can't be her dreams, and he can't be her nightmares, so he'll just have to be the bitter grogginess that bridges the gap between day and night. The rickety staircase that links the pain to the demons. And that's not okay, not anymore. 

But maybe it wasn't okay in the first place. 

 

"Jeonghan, honey, it's time to get up for school," Naomi is bright and cheerful early in the morning, despite her disgruntled appearance. Her hair curls around her shoulder in soft, blonde waves that reflect the light. It makes Jeonghan want to push himself further into the pillow, to drown in the sheets and never appear again. He wants to tear everything apart with his own hands, to feel the power that comes with it. 

"Fuck off."

Naomi is good at choosing her battles most of the time, but now is not one of them. She perches on the end of the bed, softly laying her hand on Jeonghan's leg. He flinches and tugs it away, tucking it under his chin in a protective manner. He hates her. He _hates_ her. 

"Jeonghan," Naomi takes a breath, and Jeonghan can see her wave his mother off when she appears in the doorway. 'Don't' is what is says, and it reminds him that although he hates them both, he still favors Naomi because she loves him, even if it's one-sided. She genuinely cares about him. "I know that we don't always agree-"

"- I wonder why?" Jeonghan grumbles into his pillow. 

"- But going to school is very important. You can't get a job without qualifications," Naomi moves her hand and lets it stop on his side. If he squints, Jeonghan can see the tears clogging up the inner corners of her eyes, and it makes him feel a little guilty. He's trying to punish his mother, not Naomi, but sometimes she gets in the way, like when you want to go outside immediately but first you need to put on a jacket, or when you want to go on a trip, but you haven't packed yet. It scares him, because he doesn't want her to get hurt. It's something he's only confessed to twice in his life, both times reluctantly. 

But there's still a bitter resentment that hangs in the air when he's around her. She's happy, perfectly happy, and very in love with his mother, someone he regards as a monster. Why should Naomi have to inevitably suffer the same things that he does? Why should she have to face the battles that he's tried so hard to escape? His mother claims that she's changed, but there are some types of damage that can never be repaired. 

When Naomi stands up and leaves, she doesn't hear the whispered "Please, help." that Jeonghan sends her way. 

 

High school is a challenge for most teenagers, even those who are organised and well-behaved, because of all the expectations society thrusts onto you from a young age, particularly about education. Intelligence is entirely dependent on what your grades look like, they say, art is about classic styles, strength is only the amount of muscle that clings to your bones; it's all a facade set up to mold everyone into what others want them to look like. 

Jeonghan is a prime example of what happens when someone has too much stress and too much pain - stored away, silent pain, that holds down his limbs and tightens its hands at his throat until he can't breathe and then, then finally it lets go, just enough to let him take in a gulp of air, enough to supply his brain, before clamping down again, holding tight until he's squirming and crying, and he's going blue, and the whole cycle starts up again. Loneliness tastes like self-inflicted revenge. 

"Jeonghan, we're just worried about you," The principal lets himself be swept into a web of lies, not ready to accept a bitter truth. ("His home life is fine. He's rather intelligent, really."). "You're a smart boy, you shouldn't be throwing away your education like this."

Jeonghan lets the endless drone of the principal's voice fade out, masked by the sound of ringing in his ears. Accompanying the harsh ring, is a faint sound of crying, maybe his own, and the calm sound of waves rolling and lapping at the shore of a beach somewhere. It's a pleasant noise, a nice contrast from the alarm screaming its harsh lies elsewhere, telling him that he's not good enough, never perfect enough to be accepted. He's too this or that, too good for someone, too bad for someone else, it's like living his life tied to the end of a yo-yo, going up and down until he moves his wrist too sharply and he goes crashing to the ground in a mess of tears and regret. 

Jeonghan knows that he's in deep trouble when he zones back into the lecture, a bright yellow in-school suspension slip on the wood in front of him. 

"I know it's not ideal," The principal is a disgusting man. "But I've already spoken to your step-mother, and she agrees that some counselling would be good for you." 

"It's not ideal, at all, actually," Jeonghan tightens his grip on the arm of the chair he's sat on, jaw tight in a fierce scowl. 

He pushes his chair back with a loud screech, snatches the slip up with shaking hands, and exits the room before a minute has passed. Behind him he leaves a bangle in the shape of a cat, and a slip of paper with knives drawn all over it. No one thinks anything of it.

 

When Jeonghan was younger, he was placed in a special school for a little while. In mainstream school, he'd been struggling to cope, constantly having meltdowns and aggravating the other students in his class, and the educational psychologist had recommended that he should spend some time in a school that could provide more for him. Of course, he'd spent the first few days fighting the system, but he'd settled down easily enough. 

After a couple of terms in the school, a new boy joined, and his name was Jihoon. 

Jihoon was a lot smaller than Jeonghan, with small, pixie-like features. He'd been so trusting, it validated Jeonghan, something that he'd been severely lacking, both at home and at school. The foster system kids, and losing his mother had taken away his trust, and being placed back with her and Naomi had made him disorientated and fearful. The children at his old school used to tell horrible stories about him, and push him around, and the rough treatment had made him isolated. He can remember being told by the only teacher that actually had faith in him: "If you keep calling someone a monster, over and over again, they begin to believe it.". He thinks that she was probably telling the truth.

"We should play with the cars," Jeonghan had said, and Jihoon had followed willingly. Wherever one went, the other was bound to be as well. It was the first time Jeonghan had really experienced friendship, and he's grateful for that, because it taught him that sometimes goodness can come in the form of a small autistic boy with a love for books and an interest in fairies. 

"I like cars," Jihoon used to say, whenever he saw the blue box filled with them. Jeonghan knew that, because he always said it, but he nodded like it was first time he'd heard it anyway, and let himself be swallowed up by the warm feeling in his chest when Jihoon used to smile like Jeonghan was the best thing in the world. Just seeing someone else's face light up, because of him, gave Jeonghan a sense of belief that things were going to get better. They were tough then, they had always been, but if someone trusted him that much, it could only mean one thing.

The only way from rock bottom is up. 

 

Seokmin was the first real friend Jeonghan made after he left Jihoon, and it was in high school. They shared all of the same classes, a phenomenon that Jeonghan didn't necessarily see as a good thing, considering that once they became acquainted, Seokmin would follow him around like a kicked puppy. Even so, they had similar interests, both spent their lunchtimes in the music rooms or in the dodge ball club, which, annoyingly, had been officially renamed 'Balls Squad'. 

"Hey, Jeonghan, you're coming to that party this weekend, right?" Seokmin had been invited to his first high-school party ever, which was a feat for most people, especially someone like him. He'd very kindly invited Jeonghan, but the latter had a jealous twinge in his stomach every time it was brought up. Seokmin was going to become popular and forget about him, and he was going to get a girlfriend and have someone to spend weekends with, and he'd look back to his time with Jeonghan and grimace, because he could do so much better than a depressed boy with long hair and a bad habit of imagining that everything is a conspiracy against him. 

"Ah, I'm not sure, actually," Jeonghan lies even though it hurts. "Stuff at home, you know? I don't want to make my parents stressed."

"Are you sure?" Seokmin frowns, doubt flickering in his eyes, and Jeonghan can almost visualize his trust beginning to crumble away. No one is going to want him, and it's all going to be the end of everything he's lied so much for. 

"Yeah, I think so," Jeonghan talks gently, trying to end the conversation, but Seokmin still looks worried. "You go and have fun, alright?"

"Alright, alright," Seokmin barks out a laugh, and Jeonghan tries to laugh along with him, but it sounds fake, even to his own ears.

 

The stars cover the sky like confetti, the kind you can buy in little bags to throw around at parties. Jeonghan can remember the kind of joy those little bags of hope brought with them, even after all this time. 

He wants that kind of joy for his own children, one day, wants them to look inside the bag and be able to squeal with joy. He wants to come home to the embrace of someone he loves, who cares for him, to be clambered on by children with sticky cheeks and big smiles that shine like the sun. He wants to come home to a place filled with joy and laughter, a place that smells and feels like something he's never experienced before. He wants to come home, to a place that isn't just called home because he legally owns it, but because it's where his life is. 

It's all he truly wants. It's all he wants when he wakes up in the morning, all he wants when he scrambles into his work clothes, all he wants when he eats lunch alone in the staff room of the school he works in, all he wants when he walks up to the graveyard where Naomi is, all he wants when he stumbles back home, all he wants when he collapses into bed, face stiff with drying tears. 

Maybe, maybe one day. 

**Author's Note:**

> abrupt ending? yes? no? i don't really know lmao i tried my best


End file.
